


j'ai vu la couleur de son âme

by achelllies



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Colors, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 19:31:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9918935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achelllies/pseuds/achelllies
Summary: Grantaire is drenched in colour and Enjolras finds that he cannot quite tear his eyes away.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys; sorry for everyone who commented on the last version of this fic! Apparently I have no idea how ao3 works and accidentally published my draft; so to fix that, I deleted it and published the finished version right here.
> 
> This is fic form of my headcanon which can be found here on tumblr:
> 
> https://achelllies.tumblr.com/post/153414155470/because-i-honestly-cant-get-enough-of-enjolras
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I do not own Les Mis or any of the characters mentioned in this work

_His face is streaked in green when he first meets him._

  
Grantaire is too loud and he's too drunk and he's too disruptive and he doesn't believe.

  
He is a riot of colour and an explosion of intelligence and he is a cacophony of disorder.  
Grantaire's eyes are emerald and they shine with mirth as he wreaks havoc and he's a vision smeared all over in green and Enjolras finds that he cannot quite look away.

  
He decides he rather hates the colour.

  
  
(It's an hour later when Grantaire leaves and takes all the colours out with him that Enjolras decides he cannot hate something as beautiful as the green of Grantaire's eyes.)  
  
_Green: the colour of new beginnings_

 

_It's two months later when Grantaire drenched in red._

  
Grantaire's drenched in the colours of a protest gone wrong, and the colours of the flashes of anger blazing through Enjolras's head.

  
There's blood running down the side of Enjolras's face, and blood blooming with all the vivacity of life and death into the most morbid kind of flower on Grantaire's shirt.  
He had jumped in front of a rubber bullet meant for Enjolras.

  
There is red colouring the insults they hurl at each other with little regard for the consequences, there is red in the way Grantaire's eyes are alight with a fury he's never witnessed before, there is red seeping into his vision as the guards rush in, dragging Grantaire to a separate cell, and there is red in the way Grantaire proceeds to tear down the carefully constructed tower of Enjolras's beliefs.

  
Grantaire is drenched with the colours of spite and rage and passion and belief, and he glows almost painfully with words unsaid and feelings unknown.  
(Enjolras thinks back to a memory tinted in the same sort of red, where in a drunken haze, with eyes flashing with indignation, Grantaire had declared all his belief lay in him.)

  
Enjolras is left defeated and empty when Grantaire is dragged from the cell, yelling, screaming, and angry, and snatches all the emotions in the room out with him.  
  
_Red: the colour of anger, passion._

 

_Grantaire is painted in hues of grey when Enjolras first knows him._

  
Grantaire is too quiet, too melancholy, too exhausted, and he does not believe.

  
Grantaire is a silent tempest of despondence and depression and insecurity, and the storm roars with malevolence as it consumes the disorder, the loudness, and the vibrancy of Grantaire.  
Enjolras finds grey in the concern that pervades his mind like a rolling mist, and he finds grey in the desperation clawing up his throat as the riot of colour is dulled, the explosion of intelligence is drowned, and the cacophony of disorder is stifled.

  
Grantaire's eyes are emerald and they are shining with their own brand of despair and resignation and yet fortitude shines through them like a beacon of light through the storm.  
Grantaire is quite the picture, drowning in a tumultuous sea of grey and Enjolras can't help but think he's beautiful.

_Grey: the colour of depression, clarity_

  
_Grantaire is dappled in the golden light of the sun when Enjolras first entertains the idea of being in love._

A lazy smile spreads across Grantaire’s face as he basks in the luminescence of a Parisian sunset. Different shades of rose and honey dance across his skin, and his eyes are the steady glow of a sunlit forest as they gaze upon Enjolras with contentment and adoration, and his limbs are sluggish as Enjolras threads his fingers through those unruly curls.

The golden colours of easy conversation and the way Grantaire is beaming at him wash over him in a sea of happiness and Enjolras feels he could drown in this moment forever. All he can see is gold and Enjolras thinks he might be in love.

_Gold: the colour of love, illumination_

  
_Grantaire’s bathed in the silver of the moonlight when Enjolras realizes he’s in love._

The thought hits him when Grantaire’s lost in throes of laughter.

Starlight weaves through his curls like some sort of crown, and his already vivid eyes shine brighter in the darkness. Grantaire is a child of the night, with whole galaxies residing in his eyes and laughter the sound of stars being born and the secrets of the universe spill from his lips if only one would stop to listen and Grantaire is illuminated in silver and he’s ethereal and—

Enjolras realizes he’s in love.

_Silver: the colour of unconditional love, hope_

 

_There's flowers the colours of lavender and scarlet nestled in Grantaire's hair when they first kiss._

Enjolras is in love and the moment is painted in lavender and the scarlet of Grantaire's kiss and he will never let these colours escape from him. Grantaire's eyes hold the very spectrum of light but he's enraptured by the flashes of lavender in the shy, slightly fearful smile Grantaire gives to him after they part.

The life of spring cradles them both in it's warm embrace. Lavender is intertwined in their souls and scarlet is the sound of the beating of their hearts.

Grantaire makes yet another cynical comment about the statement of the environment.

Of course Enjolras disagrees. 

Still, he is entranced.

_Lavender: the colour of equilibrium, affection and devotion_

_Scarlet: the colour of passion, love_

 

Grantaire is drenched in colour and Enjolras cannot quite tear his eyes away. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading it through!!! It's my first time fic-writing, so please leave feedback and what-not ;)
> 
> (the title translation is "I have seen the colours of his soul")
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at achelllies ;)


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